The One Hundred
by thelastcity
Summary: My shot at the 100 Themes. Rated M because who knows where this could go. Newest chapters: Fairy Tale, Pain
1. Under the Rain

I've decided to attempt the 100 Themes challenge. I've seen a few others' versions and thought I'd try my hand at it, too. I quite apologize if I step on anyone's toes with a similar story, though.

These will be posted as oneshots, out of order. They will not form a continuous story, though a few may be connected to each other, which I will note at the beginning of the shot. I don't write smut at the moment (who knows if I ever will), but there are sexual situations in some of the one's I've already written, and there may be violence if I explore Dark!Booth and/or Brennan's adolescence, so I'm using an M rating. Also, they won't always focus on Booth and/or Brennan.

Also, thanks to SapphireDesire (SD) for indulging in my procrastinatory habits and beta-ing my things and supplying me with the necessary descriptive details that I always forget.

* * *

**Under the Rain**

"I've always wanted to be kissed under the rain."

I was driving her back to the Jeffersonian when she dropped that bombshell.

"What? Where did that come from?" I never know what to do when she says things like this. Most of the time I don't think she realizes that what she says sounds like an invitation. One that's getting harder and harder to refuse.

"From, me, Booth. It came from me. Why? Was it inappropriate?" Confused, as usual. It still amazes me how much she doesn't know about pop culture. Or social situations, for that matter.

I sighed. "I know it came from you, Bones, and no, it's not inappropriate. What I really meant was: that was random. What prompted you to say that, and at this moment? Besides, it's a gorgeous, sunny day. Why would you be thinking about rain?" I knew at this point that I'd been around her too long. Her crazy little I-don't-know-what-that-means expression, the one she wears when she hasn't got a clue (which isn't often), was probably in place on my features at the moment.

"Oh. Well, I was thinking about those pictures of her husband that woman showed us in the interrogation room. There were several of them kissing underneath a waterfall, and I imagine that must be similar to kissing in the rain. And then it occurred to me that when I was younger I'd always wanted to be kissed in the rain, but never was. That's all." She stared thoughtfully out the window as I pulled up to the lab.

"Your mind works in mysterious ways, Bones. Very mysterious ways."


	2. I Can't

**I Can't**

It was late, and I was **exhausted**. We'd been working on a case in Arizona, and I'd been up for almost 72 hours straight with barely a break, much less a nap. This case was really difficult, and since I didn't have my team physically there to help me, I had to do a lot of it myself.

This is why at 10 p.m., while doing paperwork in my hotel room, Booth reached out and stole mine, saying, "Bones, you need to go to bed. You're practically asleep in that chair, and I can guarantee that that bed over there is much more comfortable."

I looked at him and didn't even bother arguing. I knew he was right. So I got up, grabbed my pajamas and toothbrush, and headed to the bathroom to change.

"Bones? Do you want me to leave?" he called through the door.

"No, it's alright. I know you don't have that much left to do and it seems silly to make you pack it all up just to unpack it again when you get back to your room. You can finish in here, the light won't bother me." With that, I bade him goodnight and climbed into bed. I fell asleep almost immediately. Booth might say "as soon as my head hit the pillow," but I don't think that's possible.

Now, I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't see.

All I know is that he is chasing me and I am running like my life depends on it. Because it does. But now I'm trapped. I've tripped and slid down a hill in the woods and I'm trapped in some kind of bush with long, skinny branches that have somehow wrapped themselves around me. They're crushing me, cutting off my escape and my gasps for air. I've got one arm free, but the other is mashed up behind me and it's starting to hurt.

And I'm terrified.

He was maybe fifty feet behind me when I tripped, and there's no way he missed where I've landed. It's going to happen all over again and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I see him walking down the hill and I start hyperventilating. Nononononononono. I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't…

He stops in front of me and just leers for a minute. Then he opens his mouth: "Miss me, Temperance? I've missed you. So much. And, _oh_, how you've," he licked his lips, "_grown_." He reaches forward to touch my face and I start thrashing. In my terror it's the only thing I can do, even though it only serves to make me more trapped, more crushed, more unable to breathe.

He steps closer now, right up to me. I reach out to hit him with my free hand, but he grabs my wrist and pins it to my chest, pressing himself up against me. I'm revolted, on the verge of retching, when he opens his mouth to speak again.

**_Bones_.**

I know that name. He doesn't call me that name, I know that name. _Why_ do I know that name?

**_Bones. You need to relax, Bones. You need to breathe. You're okay, Bones, just take it easy._**

"Can't," I can barely get the word out, I'm panicking so badly. At this point he's not trying to touch me anymore, he's just staring at me, open-mouthed.

**_Come on, Temperance, just slow down_.**

He moves again, closer this time, too close. I had stopped struggling so hard when I heard that name, that voice, but he's too close, I need to get away.

**_Whoa, whoa, Bones. Bones, baby, you need to calm down. Bones, calm down._**

He stopped moving again. He's still too close, though, and I'm still panicking. I need to get free.

**_I can't let you go until you calm down, Bones. Once you start breathing, Bones, I can let go. But you've got to breathe first. Come on, Bones. Breathe, baby. Just breathe._**

Breathe. I can do this. It's hard, though, the body fights so hard when you're hyperventilating. Makes you think you're not getting enough oxygen when you try to slow down your breathing.

**_Thatta girl, Bones. That's it, good job. Nice deep breaths, Bones, just like that. You're doing great. Good girl, Bones, good girl. Keep breathing, just like that._**

He's backing up. He's still leering at me, but he's farther away. And he's not coming after me anymore. Breathing's getting easier. But I'm still being crushed and I still can't see. I'm starting to panic again.

**_Don't freak out on me again, Bones. Open your eyes. I know you can't see, baby, I know. Just open your eyes, Bones. You can see if you open your eyes, I promise. Keep breathing, though, Bones. Open your eyes and breathe__._**

Doing what the voice said so far has made him move away, so I listen again. I open my eyes. And I experience a moment of sheer terror. It lied, he's right here; he's on top of me, he…

"Bones!"

I blink. It's Booth. Booth is the voice; Booth is the weight on my chest. And it's the sheet that I'm so tangled up in. I was asleep. It wasn't real.

"Okay, Bones, okay. You're okay. Just relax, baby. It's all over, you're safe. Breathe."

His forehead is resting on mine, and he's covering my body completely with his. The weight is no longer crushing, instead it is comforting, containing. I close my eyes again and concentrate on his weight and on breathing while he whispers nonsensical encouragement.

"That's it, Bones. Good girl. You're okay." After a minute he lets go of my wrist and moves to push himself up, off of me, and asks, "You ready for me to get up?" but I'm not ready. Not yet. I'm not calm enough yet for him to release me. I must have whimpered something to that effect because he settled himself back down on top of me and said, "Okay, Bones, you're alright. We can stay like this for a while."

I concentrate again on him and breathing. And then I start shaking as the adrenaline and stress wear off. He strokes my face and my hair, and the shakes slowly subside. "Okay," I tell him after a few more minutes, and he moves to sit beside me, still touching my face.

"If you don't fight me, I'll untangle you from the sheet. Okay?" My eyes are still closed, so I can't see his face, but his voice is soft, gentle. I nod.

It takes him a while to untangle me, but I don't fight, or even help really. I just let him move me in whatever way necessary, focusing on breathing and how gentle he is. He's untangling the sheet from around my waist when I feel a tug on my pants and hear a sheepish, "Sorry, Bones," and then a chuckle.

Curious, I open my eyes to see that he's accidentally grabbed my drawstring in the sheet and thus untied my pants, exposing a little bit of my underwear. He quirks an eyebrow, looks pointedly at my underwear, and says, "Rainbow polka dots, Bones?"

"What? I like them. I have a rainbow stripe pair, too." He outright laughs at that. I smile slightly and close my eyes again, silently forgiving him for untying my pants and granting him permission to re-tie them and finish untangling me.

As soon as he's done I curl up tightly on my side, facing away from him, feeling very exposed and very vulnerable. I want him to stay, I really, really do, but I don't know how to ask.

"That was some nightmare, there, Bones." He pauses before continuing uncertainly, "Do you want me to stay?" He still amazes me with how well he knows and anticipates what I want or need, especially when I don't even know it.

"Yeah."

I hear him shuck his belt and his jeans, and he climbs in behind me. He wraps one arm around my hips, the other around my chest, and starts rocking me back to sleep. Only one thought crosses my mind, one I'm not entirely sure Booth's line would allow: "I could get used to this."


	3. Expectations

**Expectations **(Companion to Under the Rain (Ch. 1))

She had just finished collecting the last few samples she needed when the heavens opened up and it started pouring. And not the raining kind of hard, you'll-be-soaked-if-you-don't-leave-in-a-few-moments pouring. It was definitely the torrential, drench-you-in-five-seconds pouring. Naturally, the crime scene was on a secluded riverbank at least half a mile from where they'd parked. And they had to walk back up a rarely-used, dirt hiking trail to get there. Of course. Anything else would have been just too damn convenient.

Fortunately she was in her jumpsuit, which was waterproof. Unfortunately, however, she'd started taking it off right before it rained, so her shirt was soaked. So while her clothes weren't going to get much wetter, she was already wet and would stay that way for the duration of the car ride back.

Booth, on the other hand, was just plain soaked. He'd worn his street clothes since he knew he'd ruin a suit, but rain had not been in the forecast so he'd left his emergency raincoat in the car. He hadn't expected to need it. A decision he was seriously regretting at the moment.

Sighing, they looked at each other. "Well, come on, Bones. Everyone else has left, we might as well get moving."

They trudged slowly up the trail, slipping and sliding as the dirt turned to mud. Once, Brennan fell and started sliding down the incline before Booth caught her and pulled her back to her feet. Gratified that he hadn't laughed at her futile attempt to remain standing, she offered a "Thanks" and a small smile.

He chuckled and responded with, "You know why I didn't laugh at your ridiculous attempt to stay on your feet, don't you?" When she shook her head no he continued, "Because in that suit all you need to do to get the mud off of you is either stand in front of a hose or stand still in this downpour for a minute. If you were to retaliate by pushing me over, I wouldn't be able to get this mud off until I got to a washing machine and a shower."

She snorted. He was right. She would have shoved him for laughing at her, and the fact that the trail was so slippery meant that if she so much as poked him too hard he'd immediately fall over.

"So I thought I'd save myself the trouble and not laugh at you." He flashed his charm smile. She just shook her head.

Finally they made it to the car. Upon reaching it and seeing Brennan standing there examining the amount of mud on her suit, Booth remembered something from a few weeks back.

"Bones, come here." He beckoned her over to where he was standing, in the middle of the parking lot getting rained on.

"Booth, you're nowhere near any tree cover and you're only going to get wetter. If that's even possible," but she obediently walked over to where he was standing. She looked up at him, hands on her hips, and asked, "What?"

"I remembered something." With that he took a deep breath, put a hand on either side of her face, and kissed her.

After a few seconds he pulled back to look at her. Her expression was surprised and something akin to 'this is too good to be true' cautious happiness. "That was…unexpected," was her response.

"Well, you said you'd never been kissed in the rain. So, seeing as it's raining right now, and you wanted to be kissed in the rain, I thought I'd, uh, help that dream along. And you looked kind of cute over there in your mud-splattered jumpsuit."

"Oh. Well, um, thanks." She blushed, and then seemed to regain her composure, "I meant, however, that I'd never been _kissed_ in the rain. Like a real kiss." He raised his eyebrows. "Wait, I mean a proper kiss. That was a real kiss, but it wasn't a proper kiss." There. She was playing semantics, but if she got another kiss out of it what was the problem?

"And what, pray tell, is a proper kiss, Dr. Brennan? And do I get a second try?" He was all cocky charmer now.

"First of all, Agent Booth, a proper kiss lasts for more than 5 seconds. And second, I suppose you can have a second try. But!" she held up a hand to stop him, "If you mess up again, there will be no third try. And my expectations are high."

He grinned. "Understood." There was no way he was messing this one up.


	4. Are You Challenging Me?

This is a bit of Dark!Booth. Not terribly happy. Or happy at all really. But, I figured that since I successfully survived my first week back at work and my first week back in class, that I'd reward myself with a new ear piercing and you with a new theme! My ear, however, hurts right now, but this probably won't hurt you too much. And I get cable tomorrow! Just in time for new Bones. I'm super-excited.

Also, if we get the promised 7 inches of snow this weekend, I'll probably write more since there's no way I'm taking the T anywhere until the roads are plowed.

* * *

**Are You Challenging Me?**

"What?" he spat. "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

I just stood there. They teach you that, in interrogation training, to make them wait. Watch them squirm while you take your time. Let them wonder what the hell you're going to do next, how much they have to say to get out from beneath your penetrating gaze.

"I _said_: what the _fuck_ do you WANT?"

He was getting angrier. Not quite angry enough, though. He would be soon, that was for sure. And that's what I wanted. The thought caused a look of bitter amusement to cross my face. He noticed, even in his haze, and that's what brought him to his feet.

"YOU WILL FUCKING _SPEAK_ WHEN SPOKEN TO, BOY! YOU ARE A GOD DAMNED, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING, WORTHLESS SACK OF _SHIT_!" He was right up in my face, now, screaming. "It's no wonder they threw your sorry ass out and sent you back here! You didn't do _shit_ in the army, boy. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Turning, he started heading in the direction of the kitchen, where his friends Jack and Jim lived with the Wild Turkey.

Still, I stood. He wanted me to argue back. He wanted me to say something, do anything, so he'd have an excuse. Well, not tonight. I wasn't going to give him that excuse tonight. This time, he was going to have to find it on his own. And when he did (it was always a matter of 'when'), that's when I'd answer him.

Before reaching the kitchen, he thought of some other witty thing to say, so he turned back around. Just like I knew he would. He never could let anything go, and every time he thought of something else to add to a conversation, even hours later, he'd find you and tell you. And he was really annoyed that I hadn't said anything yet, had just stood there, immobile.

"Are you challenging me? What the fuck are you playing at here, Seeley? You never were worth a damn. Always pissing me off, always making everyone miserable. You! It was always-fucking-_you_! And now you can't even answer a goddamn question?! Why the fuck won't you answer?! FUCKING ANSWER ME!"

I saw his right hand twitch as he screamed "fucking" and I knew that this was it. He'd reached the boiling point and would now give me the opening I was looking for. Moving so quickly that he never saw it coming, I had him pinned to the wall by his throat, cutting off his voice and most of his air, and preventing him from striking me. He was so shocked that he just gaped. It had never occurred to him that one of us might someday fight back.

My voice was harsh and low. "You want to know 'what the fuck I want'? Yeah? I'll tell you 'what the fuck I want'. I want you to stop. Now." I punctuated my 'now' by knocking his head against the wall lightly. This was merely to get his attention, not to cause him any pain. "You can drink yourself to death for all I care, but I want you to stop hitting them. Now. Understand?"

I loosened my hold slightly, so that he could speak. He seemed to have recovered himself somewhat, though, because he glared before responding. "Why the fuck should I do anything you want me to do?"

"Because I've killed 48 people. Because in addition to being a sniper I was trained in the art of…_questioning_…prisoners. Because I am faster, stronger, and smarter than you'll ever be. Because I could seriously hurt you and make it look like an accident. Because I could kill you and make it look like an accident. Any of those good reasons why you should do what I want?"

He blanched. Turns out he believed that I could do it. That I _would_ do it. Smartest thing he's done in a while, the sorry son of a bitch.

"Good. Now, you sit in your chair and finish your drink. I'm going to go finish packing for D.C." I set him back down on the floor and watched as he sat back down in his chair.

Walking up the stairs, I was sad and disappointed. Not for what I had said and done, but because I'd had to say and do those things. That was the only way my message was going to get across. And that was sad. But at the same time I was gratified. I wasn't my father. I had pinned him, yes, but as a defensive maneuver and I had caused him no pain, merely discomfort. I had spoken harshly, but I had not screamed or been overly angry. And I had not dropped him to the floor when I was done, I had placed him back on his feet.

No, I am not my father. And maybe he won't be the father I grew up with anymore, either.

* * *

A/N: I said Booth killed 48 people because this is pre-D.C. and we know that "Epps made 50," which means Farid in The Man in the S.U.V. was 49. I'm pretty sure Booth may have also killed some people in The Woman in the Car, but it's unclear if they "counted" or made it onto his list.


	5. 67 Percent

**67%**

Sixty-seven percent.

That's what it said on the top of my paper: 67%. And that's when I knew. I was turning into one of those rich kids who slacked off, blamed the teacher, and then used their money to buy off the headmaster so they didn't fail out. Well, the parents did the buying-off part. But two out of three, right?

The numbers mocked me.

Either way, I knew, I was not going to be one of those kids. Not anymore. I had seen the way those kids acted. The stuck-up, pompous, my-daddy-is-richer-than-your-daddy, ignorant twits that only knew how to spend money. No, I definitely did not want to be one of those.

This stuff wasn't hard. School wasn't hard. I just hadn't cared up until now. I'd been much more willing to go off and screw around with my friends instead of paying attention. Plus, my lack of studying in the past is catching up to me. I'd always gotten A's before, but it seems we're getting into new territory. Territory where I actually have to at least read the material before seeing it on the exam instead of just being able to understand it the first time I looked at it.

But hey, this whole "studying" thing can't be that bad, can it? I mean, if I have to study, it's because we're covering new material. If it's new material, than I'm learning. And if I'm learning, then those other kids can't call me a stuck-up know-it-all anymore. I'll just be a regular know-it-all instead.

This 67% is a wake-up call. If I want to be more than Jack Hodgins, Heir to the Cantilever Group (and oh, do I!), then I'd better get my act together. Now. Because even though my money will get me into any college I want, it won't do me any good in the end to just rely on it.

No, I think I'm going to be more proud of this 67% than any other grade I have ever, or will ever, receive.


	6. Questioning

Today's kind of a crappy day. To top it off, Bones isn't on this week - they've bumped it to next week because of Bush's farewell address (which is going to be a whopping 15 minutes. They should still show Bones, just cut out the commercials!). And while they're showing 2 Bones next Thursday, they're showing them out of order.  
The only good thing about today is that I found out I did well on my antitrust exam.

Okay, /whining. And a big thanks to SD, as usual :)

* * *

**Questioning**

She couldn't help it. She knew that he loved her, but she still couldn't stop questioning what they were doing. It was why she'd broken up with him.

She'd told Brennan that they were running on sex and laughing. That was true, but there was something more there. Something so scary that if she didn't jump right in, she was going to have to leave.

So she'd jumped. But it was only to find that the pool was frozen solid and the ice was 12 inches thick.

If they'd been able to get married then everything would have been okay. Really, it would have. Yes, it would have been scary, but she would have stayed and tried harder to work through it. It's always been this way. If she had an out, she'd take it. No matter what. She wasn't proud of it, but there it was.

It had been that way with Roxie, too. Her out in that relationship was that, at the time anyway, there would never be a way to fully (that is, legally) commit to each other. So when things got too scary there was nothing to hold her in that relationship.

It's not that she'd stay in these relationships and be miserable. Not at all. It's just that, once you officially make that commitment it's almost more of a hassle to break the commitment than it is to deal with the scary stuff. If she'd been forced to deal with it, she would have. But since she was given the choice, like she said, she ran. As much as she scolded Brennan for running away from personal commitment, she was just as bad. The feeling of hypocrisy gnawed at her.

And she was ashamed of that. So when she and Roxie had picked up where they'd left off, she tried to right the wrongs from her failed marriage-to-be. That had failed, too. She came in too fast, tried the "let's move in together" thing too quickly, and all-in-all, she knew that it wasn't going to work this time either. She was hurt, sure, when Roxie said no to moving in, but she wasn't surprised. She was going about it for all the wrong reasons, trying to prove to herself that she could commit to someone, even if it wasn't the one she wanted to be committing to.

All she knew was that she had screwed up. Big time. The last question that remained was: Could it be fixed?


	7. Love

**Love**

"Explain to me again why you dislike marriage and don't want to get married yourself?" We were doing paperwork in her office. Well, _I_ was doing paperwork; she was doing who-knows-what at her computer. Probably looking up new ways to torture me. Or writing some hot sex scene between me and her. I mean, Andy and Kathy. Come on, no way I'm not Andy. Puh-lease.

She glanced up at me to show that she'd heard the question, but finished typing whatever she was typing before answering. "For several reasons, Booth. First, marriage is an antiquated ritual. Second, it limits your legal rights. Especially for women. Granted, laws have gotten better and for the most part husbands are no longer considered the legal guardians of their wives, but wives are often still subjugated. Third, it limits your personal freedoms. You are now always accountable in some way to your spouse. Additionally, the ring a man gives a woman when he proposes marks her as his, again reinforcing the old idea that she is now his property."

I let her ramble on for a little while. I'd heard all of this before, and while she did have some valid points, I know she's wrong.

"You're wrong, Bones." I said it nonchalantly, knowing this would infuriate her more than anything. I prepared the countdown.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1….

"Excuse me?" Ka-boom! Yup, infuriated. I was right. "I am not _wrong_, Booth."

"Yes you are." She shot me a dirty look tinged with a bit of 'You're saying this to be an asshole.' And while I do enjoy provoking her on a regular basis, this wasn't one of those times.

She got up, came over to stand in front of me, crossed her arms over her chest and demanded, "Well, explain, then. Because my facts are not wrong. And the portions that are opinion are not wrong either, because they're opinion."

I remained seated. "I'll concede those two points, Bones, but you're still wrong."

Now she was just confused. If I'd agreed that her facts were right and her opinions couldn't be wrong because they're opinions, then what the hell was I talking about? As much as I love her 'So far past I-don't-know-what-that-means' face, I decided to put her out of her misery. So to speak.

"You're wrong because that's not why you dislike marriage."

"It's not?" Still confused. I'm not surprised. I'll admit, though, that I'm slightly drawing out the duration of her confusion because her facial expressions are just so cute. Plus, it's increasingly rare that I get to confuse her.

"Nope, it's not. You dislike marriage because you dislike love. Incidentally, I don't believe you when you say you don't believe love exists. You do believe that love exists, which contributes to why you're wrong about why you dislike marriage."

"And how is that, exactly?" She's cautious now, and slightly suspicious, as she usually is when I tell her something about herself that she isn't aware of. And as much as she hates it when I analyze her like she analyzes her bones, I actually rather enjoy revealing pieces of herself to her.

"You dislike marriage because, today anyway, marriage is premised on love. Do me a favor and accept that as true for the purposes of this conversation, though it is true for most couples in general." I waited for her nod of agreement before continuing, "You dislike love because everyone you've ever loved has left you. Your father, your mother, your brother. Even Sully. I don't know if you loved Sully, and you don't have to tell me if you did, but at the very least you cared about him a lot." To be honest, I don't think she loved Sully. If she had, she would've gone with him. That's not to say, however, that had he stayed she wouldn't have started to love him. I think it was a definite possibility. One, however, that Sully destroyed. And for that, I must admit, I'm grateful.

She didn't say anything, but the glare she sent informed me that this was dangerous territory and she didn't like it. That's never stopped me before, though, so I barreled on. "So if marriage is premised on love, and you love the person you marry, then, according to your current logic, it follows that he will leave you. Or she, I suppose. But evidence suggests that your romantic interests lie solely with men." I included that last part just so she'd say something.

"It does." Good, she said something.

"So that's why you're wrong, Bones. For the record, though, not everyone you love will leave you. I know you don't currently have much evidence to support that, but I thought I'd just let you know." She blinked and looked very much like a deer caught in the headlights.

It was a lot to process, I knew, so I took that opportunity to stand and give her an out, "Well, I'm hungry and I need a break, so I'm going to grab some food. You want to come, or do you want me to bring something back?"

She blinked again, processed what I'd asked her, and said, "Um, if you could bring me something back that would be nice."

"Sure thing, Bones." I headed to the door. "Oh, by the way, because I'm a growing boy and I need lots of sustenance," I flashed her a grin, "I highly doubt I'm going to be able to wait until I get back to eat."

I saw a small smile on her face, which was good. She knew what I was doing by telling her I was going to eat there, and she knew that I'd be back to add to her evidence.


	8. Dark

A/N: It's been a while, sorry. My beta and I were swamped. And then I went snowboarding for the first time this weekend! It was a blast! Though I haven't bruised this badly in years. Lame.

Also, this is sad. And I got the closet idea from gwasshoppa's Pulse Point and the lock idea from blc's Magpie.

* * *

**Dark**

It was dark. She was sitting on the floor of her closet with the door closed.

Closets were safe. People rarely knew you were in the closet; they assumed you weren't home. Or had snuck out. Sometimes she'd put pillows under the covers to make it look like she was sleeping. At one point, she'd even bought a wig to spread out over the pillow. She didn't always sit in the closet, of course. Just when she'd needed some space. Or a hiding place. Or an escape. Or even all of the above.

The dark was safe, too. Ironically, she'd been afraid of the dark as a child. She'd quickly gotten over that fear after her fifteenth Christmas, however. Things were quieter in the dark, and the noises that humans made were louder, more easily discernible. She'd been quite proficient at identifying footsteps and their owners, even through two closed doors. Sometimes only one. Those were the houses where she bought a lock to fit onto the closet. Two, actually. One for the doorknob that could be locked from the outside lest they realize she was hiding in the closet those times when the door was locked. Of course, she made sure she could unlock it from the inside, too. And a deadbolt, installed on the inside. She'd always insisted that she be able to lock the closet, after that first house. Usually the houses which provided the locks were the ones in which they didn't matter. A tragic irony, some might say.

But the closet and the dark, they were safe, they were quiet. That's where she cried. Away from prying eyes or clawing hands. Away from the people who didn't care, or worse, pretended to. Away from those who actually did care, the ones who could get close enough to hurt her when they inevitably left.

Mostly she sobbed silently. That was required if she didn't want anyone to know where she was, or that she was there at all. If she knew, for sure, that she was alone, she might allow herself the luxury of crying aloud. She didn't like to, though. She felt weak when she heard the noises she'd make. Usually, she'd hug her knees and rock herself until she was calm enough to climb into bed, or until she fell asleep on top of her shoes. Crying exhausted her, so she usually fell asleep on the shoes. Sometimes she'd continue rocking herself even after climbing into bed. There was no one to do it for her.

She knew people would think it was sad that she still only cried in the dark, on the floor, locked in her closet, in her own apartment, at age 32. That she'd cried in front of Booth those few times was an anomaly. She was usually able to make it until the end of the day, when most other people were asleep in their beds. She had even learned how to prolong those pre-cry gasps until she had locked the closet door. Dr. Temperance Brennan was a strong woman, and her mask would not be allowed to slip in front of the entire world.

Like tonight. Tonight she was curled in a ball, rocking herself, and crying aloud as if her very existence was pouring out of her. Tonight she was crying because no one had rocked her since she was fifteen. And no one ever would again.


	9. Keeping A Secret

**Keeping a Secret**

I had been sleeping. Dreaming rather peacefully, too, about the squirt gun fight Hodgins and the intern had had today, when my cell phone rudely interrupted my first good dream in a long time.

"Hello?" I croaked. My voice betrayed my grogginess, so I reiterated the greeting after clearing my throat.

"Bones? Can you come over?" A timid voice spoke. It wasn't Booth.

"Parker? Is that you? Where's Booth? Where's your dad?" Now I was worried. Parker never called me. I didn't even think he knew my number. Booth must have shown him how to use the speed dial on his cell phone.

"Um," his voice wavered, "Daddy had a bad dream and he..." Parker mumbled something I couldn't understand, "And now he won't stop crying. Daddy says you're his friend, can you please come over?" He started to cry then. I can't imagine how freaked out he must be. Booth never cries. At least not in front of anyone. In fact, if anything, it's usually me crying in front of him.

"Okay, Parker, don't worry. I'll come over. Are you at your dad's house?" I threw a pair of pants on over my shorts. Hell, it's 3 a.m. No one's going to care what I look like. Least of all Booth.

"Yeah," he sobbed.

"Okay, Parker, calm down. I'm leaving my house now." I had no idea what to say to him, I'm not good with kids. What do you do to calm a sobbing child? Especially one you barely know. "Um, do you want to stay on the phone with me? Or do you want to hang up and wait?"

"I c-can w-wait," he'd stopped sobbing, but there was still a slight hiccupping on the line.

"That's no problem. You're going to have to open the door when I get there, though, okay? So why don't you wait in the living room until I knock." Wait, Booth would go ballistic if I told Parker to just open the door if he heard someone knock in the middle of the night. "Actually, don't open the door until you hear _my_ knock. I'm going to knock once and then I'm going to wait a second and then knock three times. It will sound like this: Knock. Knock-knock-knock. Do not open the door unless you hear that knock, okay Parker?"

"Okay." I might not know much about people, but even I could tell from the way his voice wavered that he was truly scared.

"Good. I'm going to hang up now, but I'll see you in a few minutes." By that time I'd made it out to my car, so I jumped in and drove like a maniac over to Booth's.

Once Parker let me in, I knelt down to see if he could tell me anything more. "Hey," I started softly, "You okay, Parker?" He lifted his head to look at me and I saw the tear tracks and a large red mark on his face. It looked almost like he'd been hit in the face with…_Oh_. Oh shit. I reached out to touch the mark, "What happened, kiddo?" People called kids 'kiddo,' right?

He started to cry again. "He was having a bad, a bad d-dream. Yelling and s-st-stuff. And I t-tried to wake h-him up, b-but h-h-he w-wouldn't!" He started crying harder, so I reached out to hug him and he flung himself at me. I let him cry for a few minutes and then prompted him to continue. "I w-was shaking him and then he w-woke up and h-he h-hit me. I d-didn't m-mean to m-make him mad! Really I d-didn't!" He broke down completely, then.

"Oh Parker, it's okay Parker. You didn't make him mad. I promise." I held him, rubbing his back. "Your dad didn't mean to hit you, I know he didn't. He probably thought he was still dreaming."

"I d-didn't m-mean to do anything w-wrong," he wailed into my shoulder, "I'm s-sorry."

I pulled back to look him in the eye, "You have nothing to be sorry about, Parker. _Nothing_." He looked like he didn't believe me. He probably didn't. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to get you some ice and walk you back to your room. You're going to sit on your bed for a few minutes while I go talk to your dad. Then I'm going to come back and talk to you. Then we're both going to go talk to your dad, together. So come on, let's get up." I pulled him to his feet and held his hand as we walked back to his bedroom. I got him settled on his bed with the ice and what looked like his security blanket. "I'll be back in a few minutes to explain everything, I promise." He sniffed and nodded.

I closed his door and made my way over to Booth's room. I found him sitting on the edge of his bed in his pajama pants, face in his hands. He'd stopped crying, it seemed, but was clearly so distraught that he couldn't think.

"Hey Booth." No answer. I didn't really expect one. Kneeling down in front of him, like I did with Parker, I asked, "Want to tell me what happened?"

"You know what happened." His voice was flat, hollow. I had never seen Booth like this before. So dejected, so angry with himself, so… defeated. I didn't know what exactly to do, but I waited. He'd tell me. "I hit him. That's what happened, Bones. _I. Hit. Him_."

"He said you were having a nightmare, that he was trying to wake you up."

"Yeah." His face was still hidden in his hands.

"What were you dreaming about?" I hoped he'd tell me. He doesn't usually.

"Being kidnapped." Ah. He started to get agitated as he continued. "The second time. They just wouldn't stop. I knew what was going to happen, but I fought back anyway. Just to piss them off." He looked at me then, pleading, "When you're there and anyone touches you, it's…I…you just lash out at anything, everything that touches you. Even when you're sleeping. Especially when you're sleeping. I didn't mean to do it, I didn't. It just happened, I couldn't stop it, I couldn't stop…" He started sobbing again, then.

I sat next to him on the bed and rubbed his back. "I know you didn't, Booth. I know."

"He's going to tell Rebecca and then I'll never be able to see him again, Bones. How could I have let myself fuck this up?"

"Shh, Booth. It'll be okay. He's just scared right now. He thinks you're mad at him. That he did something wrong." Booth only cried harder. Oh, what would Angela do? I'm not the comforter!

I did the only thing I could think of. I reached out and rested my forehead against his temple, putting my hand on the other side of his face, holding him to me. "I'm going to go explain everything to him, and then we're going to come back in here, okay? You really freaked him out, you know, when you wouldn't stop crying. That's why he called me." He leaned his head into mine for a few seconds, "It'll be okay, Booth." Reluctantly, I let go so I could go back to Parker. "We'll be back in a little while."

Back in Parker's room I found him lying on his side, the part of his face that wasn't covered by the ice pack was pressed into his blanket. "Hey kiddo, I think you've had the ice on that long enough. Let me take a look." I sat down next to him, and leaned over to get a better look at his face. It wasn't too bad. The mark was redder now, but that was because of the ice. I wasn't sure if it would bruise, though. Sometimes faces bruised and sometimes they didn't. It looked like Booth had hit him with an open palm though, and not a closed fist. It would definitely be less likely to bruise if that was the case.

"Is Daddy still mad at me?"

"Parker, your dad was never mad at you. And he was crying so hard because he feels so terrible about hitting you. It was an accident." He nodded, but I knew that I'd need to do more explaining than that to get my message across. "What do you know about what your dad did before you were born?"

"I know that he and my mommy didn't get married. And that he worked for the F.B.I. like he does now. And that he was in the army."

"Good. You know how you said that he was having a bad dream and you were trying to wake him up?" he nodded, "Well, he was having a bad dream about when he was in the army."

He sat up, "Why?"

"Your Dad…" I sighed. how do you explain this to a seven-year-old without traumatizing him? I'm no good at this. "Well, your dad saw a lot of bad things in the army. Really bad things."

"Things like stuff in those army movies he won't let me watch?" I have no idea what army movies Booth won't let him watch, but probably that's the reason why he's not allowed to watch them.

"Yeah. Not only that, but your dad was captured by the bad guys a couple of times. And when the bad guys capture you, they're really, really, really mean."

"Meaner than when Al the Toy Collector kidnapped Woody?" I had no idea what that meant, but assumed he was referencing a children's movie. Which of course would be nothing at all like what Booth had gone through.

"Way meaner than that. And sometimes when Booth dreams about it his reflexes get overactive and he may do things that he doesn't usually do." Parker looked confused. "Do you know what a reflex is?"

"No."

"Oh, well a reflex is like…when you touch something hot and then you pull your hand away really fast. It's a reflex to pull your hand away from something hot that will burn you."

"Oh, like if I tried to touch the stove when it was on?"

"Yes, just like that. Your dad's reflexes, though, are a little different. Especially when he has bad dreams about the army. In those dreams one of his reflexes is to hit anyone who touches him."

"Because he thinks it's a kidnapper?" I've got to remember to tell Booth how smart Parker is. He's picked up on this stuff really fast.

"Right, because he thinks it's a kidnapper. And when you think someone is kidnapping you, you try really hard to fight so that they can't. So I think that next time your dad has a bad dream it might be a good idea to stand back and just shout for him to wake up."

"Yeah. I think you're right. Why did he cry so hard, though? When I told him I was sorry and that I wouldn't do it again it only made him cry more. I didn't mean to make him cry." He looked like he might cry again himself.

"You didn't make him cry, Parker. He made himself cry."

"But that doesn't make any sense."

It does, actually, but I wasn't sure how much I should tell Parker. "Your dad felt so bad that he hit you that he started to cry. And…" I shouldn't, but I'm going to anyway, "And when you apologized, that reminded him of other bad things, which made him cry even harder."

"What bad things?"

I took a deep breath. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise that you won't tell anyone. I mean anyone, not even your mom. Your dad wants to keep it a secret, and I'm not sure that even I'm supposed to know."

"But Daddy tells you everything!" he was amazed that I might not be supposed to know.

"I know. That's how secret it is. So do you promise?" I really hope that he's good at keeping secrets.

"I promise," he said solemnly.

"Okay, well, Booth's dad wasn't very nice to him." Off Parker's look I elaborated, "Booth's dad used to hit him." He gasped and his eyes widened. "Usually what happens in families where a parent hits a child is that the child doesn't know what he's done wrong, so he apologizes and promises never to do it again. Even though he doesn't know what 'it' is. Unfortunately, he generally hasn't done anything wrong. So when you apologized, you reminded Booth of when he was young."

"His daddy did that?" came his appalled whisper.

"Yeah. And Booth promised himself that he would never, ever, _ever_ hit you or anyone else—"

"Except bad guys," he interrupted.

"Right, except bad guys. So when he hit you he felt awful, and when you got scared and apologized he felt even worse. That's why he cried so hard."

Parker looked sad and furious at the same time. "My daddy is the best daddy in the whole world! Why would his daddy do something like that?"

"I don't know, Parker. I don't know. Some people just do things like that. Sometimes because they're scared, sometimes because they want to feel like they're in control. It's not a good thing."

"No," he agreed. "Can we go see Daddy now?"

"Yes, but I should tell you that he's going to be afraid that you might hate him. And he might still be crying." I may not know people, but I know Booth, and I know that this is what he's most afraid of right now, behind never being allowed to see Parker again.

"Well I don't." With that he grabbed his blanket and my hand and marched us into Booth's room. Booth was how I left him, still sitting on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands. When the door opened, he started in surprise, and I could see the fear in his eyes when Parker approached.

Whatever Booth expected him to do, though, it wasn't throwing his arms around Booth's neck and hugging like he'd never let go. Booth tentatively returned the embrace and looked nervously up at me.

"I'm sorry that kidnappers were mean to you in the army, Daddy. And I'm sorry that they give you bad dreams. I forgive you for hitting me. Bones says it was an accident. She says you thought I was a kidnapper." Booth hugged him fiercely and started crying into his shoulder. "Please don't cry, Daddy. Please. It wasn't your fault. They were mean to you and they shouldn't have done it. You didn't do anything wrong, Daddy."

I didn't think it was possible, but Booth started crying even harder when Parker told him that. It's amazing, the things that kids say when they know you're hurting. At that point I decided that it was time to get these two to bed. We were all exhausted, Booth especially, and if I didn't force the issue right now, he'd probably never go to sleep.

"Okay you two, bedtime." I pulled the covers back farther so that they could both get in. Parker obediently got off his father's lap and climbed in. Booth stood and pulled me into a crushing hug.

"Please stay," he begged. "Please?"

"Okay. You need to get into bed first, though." I patted his shoulder and he released me. This time I knew what to do. He needed reassurance that we didn't hate him, that we didn't think he was a terrible person. And I realized that, at the moment, the best way to do that was to stay and hold him while he slept. A simple touch, Angela had said. He climbed into bed, too, and pulled Parker up on his chest. "Scoot over," I told him. He obliged and I climbed in next to him. He settled Parker more comfortably on his chest, and then settled his own head on top of my outstretched arm in the crook of my shoulder.

"Go to sleep, Booth. It'll be okay in the morning." I kissed his forehead and we drifted off to sleep.


	10. Give Up

A/N: B/B established relationship. This one's sad-ish, too, but it's got a happy-ish ending. Brennan might be considered OOC, but given the context I don't think it's unrealistic.

And thanks SD for the super-fast turnaround!

* * *

**Give Up**

He sauntered into the lab, whistling to himself. It had been a good day. Well, pretty good. He'd had to spend it in court, but today had been the big one: a conviction. Now he was looking for Bones, so they could go out and celebrate, even though she hadn't had anything to do with this particular case. She, however, was nowhere to be found.

He popped into Cam's office, "Hey Cam? You seen Bones?"

"Not since this morning. She left at about 9:30, said she wasn't feeling well. I assume she went home." She glanced up at him, "Any particular reason you wouldn't know this already, Seeley?"

"Court today, Camille. She didn't call or leave a message."

"Ah, that'd do it. Sorry, Booth, but I haven't heard from her since she left. Your best bet's her apartment."

"Hmm. Thanks, Cam." He left, slightly preoccupied. Bones never left early, at least not without leaving him a message first. Figuring that Cam was right about her destination, he headed over to her apartment.

Upon entering, he noticed that there was only one light on. Maybe she was in bed? It was pretty early though. "Bones?" he called. Walking farther inside he saw her sitting on the couch hugging her knees. "Hey, Bones. Cam said you weren't feeling well this morning? Did you get sick after I left?"

She lifted her head to look at him and he saw, quite clearly, that she had been crying. He also noticed that she was clutching a plain white envelope in her hand.

"Bones? You okay? What happened?" He sat down next to her and she crawled carefully into his lap. These weren't good signs, the crawling or the carefully.

She took a shaky breath and started to speak, but was cut off by a sob. The one sob turned into several, but she managed to choke out "P-please don't be m-mad at me. Please," before being rendered incoherent.

"Bones, baby, what's wrong? Of course I'm not mad at you, you haven't done anything." She continued to cry, though, and he couldn't figure out what she could possibly have done to make her think that he'd be angry with her or to make her cry this hard. Completely bewildered he just held her and kissed her hair.

After a few minutes she calmed enough to hand him the envelope and repeat her plea. When he took it she tucked her head under his chin, still crying softly. He could feel her tears soaking his shirt.

When he opened the envelope he nearly dropped it in shock. Sonograms. That's what was inside. Sonograms, with her name on them, dated a few weeks earlier.

"Bones…" he whispered.

"I'm s-so s-sorry. I want…I want…I wanted to…" she started sobbing again, unable to finish.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Bones. It's okay." He held her tighter, growing slightly worried. He was concerned at how much she was crying, and he was concerned for why she was apologizing. Was she upset because she was pregnant? Or maybe because she decided to get an abortion and was afraid of telling him? These weren't happy tears, so she clearly wasn't excited about being pregnant. He hoped she was just nervous, that she hadn't decided to terminate the pregnancy. He'd support her decision, but would have liked to talk about it first.

"I w-wanted to k-keep it. I real—" she swallowed thickly, "I really did. I was going to tell you in t-two weeks. At three months."

Oh. _Oh_. Oh _no_. "Oh, Bones. Sweetheart, I'm so sorry." She shook her head. "What happened?"

"I…I started bleeding at work. I looked it up and, and it didn't sound n-normal." She was trying so hard to be clinical, but he knew from Rebecca that her hormones at 10 weeks were crazy anyway and after miscarrying…no wonder she was crying so hard. "I called my doctor and sh-she said to go to the h-hospital. So I did. And they told me…they told me that I lost the baby." He barely heard the last part, but he already knew what it would be.

He pulled back to look at her, "You went by yourself? Angela didn't go with you?"

"She doesn't know. I didn't tell anyone." She wouldn't meet his eyes, "This just adds to the evidence of why I shouldn't be a mother."

He closed his eyes briefly. Sometimes she was beyond ridiculous. "Bones, Temperance," he chided gently, "You should have told someone. You shouldn't have had to do that alone. I can guarantee that _anyone_ would have dropped everything to help you." She tried so hard to be strong, he knew, but there were some things that you just shouldn't do alone.

She shook her head again. "Please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." She sounded so small that his heart almost broke.

"Bones, look at me." He lifted her head and waited until she opened her eyes. "I am _absolutely __**not**_ mad at you." She tried to turn away, but Booth angled her head back toward his. "I mean it. I'm not. I'm just so sorry that you thought you had to do this alone. And that you think this is only one more reason why you should give up on being a mother."

"You're not mad that I didn't tell you?" His heart did break, then. She looked afraid, and so hopeful that he wouldn't be angry with her.

"Oh, sweetheart, of course not. You had your reasons for not telling me, though I hope you'll tell me what they were. And you said that you were going to tell me soon. And, to be honest, I think I would have noticed eventually if you'd tried to keep it a secret." She smiled tremulously at that. "I'm sad that we lost the baby, but I'm certainly not angry at you. You didn't do anything wrong." He tucked her head under his chin again and began rubbing her back.

After a few minutes of silence she started talking again, "I was scared, when I found out I was pregnant. And I didn't know what to do. After a while, though, I decided that I was happy, that I wanted to have a baby. But I still wanted to keep it a secret. It's irrational, but I liked being the only one who knew. And today you were in court, and you didn't know, and I didn't want you to get mad that I told Angela first. And I didn't want Angela to get mad that I didn't want to tell her first."

He chuckled, "I wondered when 'irrational' would make it into the conversation. And I really don't think Angela would have been mad at you for wanting to tell me first. I think she'd understand. It's okay, though, Bones, that you wanted it to be a secret. As long as you didn't think you'd actually be able to keep that secret for much longer." He squeezed her tightly.

"No. I was going to tell people in two weeks."

They sat quietly again for a few minutes before Booth spoke, "Why don't I call Angela and see if she'll bring us over some ice cream. Sound good?"

"Yeah. She called me a couple of times today, but I didn't answer. She doesn't like it when I don't call her back." _She's not the only one_, he thought.

"She'll understand, Bones, I promise." He kissed the top of her head again, and pulled out his cellphone. "Hey Ange…Yes, I'm at her apartment with her…I know…No, she's…Well, no, not exactly…It's under contr…Ange, Angela, why don't you grab some ice cream and come over. We'll all watch a movie or something…I will. When you get here I will…I promise…Okay, see you soon. Bye." He hung up.

"It's irrational for me to be worried that she'll be angry with me."

"Well, yes and no, Bones. It is a little bit irrational, but you've had a rough day, so I think a little bit of irrationality can be forgiven. Plus your body is totally whacked out right now. I do hope, though, that this doesn't totally make you give up. I mean, I know that we hadn't exactly planned on getting pregnant, but if you decide that you want to try again…I wouldn't mind. But if you don't want to, that's okay, too," he added hastily.

"Thanks, Booth." She raised her head and kissed him softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too."


	11. Out Cold

A/N: A short, rather amusing (I think) theme. This one's, again, mildly inspired from Magpie. Clearly I haven't an original thought in my head.

* * *

**Out Cold**

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said. Seriously? He wasn't the one lying on the ground with her foot on his neck.

"No, really. I wouldn't. She will knock you out cold without even blinking." Yeah, right. This woman looks like she weighs 120 tops and would be blown away in the wind. Plus, _you_ are the one who laid me out flat, asshole. She just stepped on me so I wouldn't be able to get up.

She looked over at him, away from me, "Well, I might blink, Booth. It's an involuntary reflex, especially in these kinds of situations." I thought, for a second, that I might have a chance at getting out, but she stepped harder when all I did was move my pinky. She wasn't even looking at me!

He sighed a long-suffering sigh, "I know that, Bones. It's an expression. Basically I was telling him that you would have no qualms about knocking him flat on his ass, or out cold. And that you are more than capable of doing it in the first place." He turned back to me, "And she _is_ capable."

"Bullshit." I said. Or tried to, anyway. Her foot was interfering with my ability to speak.

"Loosen up a bit there, Bones, I want to hear what he said." She complied.

"I said: Bullshit."

The guy, Booth, laughed. The girl, Bones, and what the hell kind of name is 'Bones' anyway? She looked at me seriously and said, "No, it's not. I could, and I would. Usually, though, he," she jerked her head in Booth's direction, "doesn't let me." She turned to look at him again, then, and said, "I wish you would. You know that I'm perfectly capable of disarming or incapacitating suspects on my own."

"I know you are, Bones. That's what scares me."

I snorted. There was no way this woman could incapacitate anyone.

"Don't laugh, buddy, it's true. She could take me." I just stared at him. This guy easily has at least 4 inches and 70 pounds on her and he thinks she could take him? No way. I'm not buying it. Next thing you know he'll be selling me a bridge, too.

"It's true."

She looked surprised, too, but said, "It might not be easy, you'd definitely pose at least some challenge, but you're right. I could beat you. I'm surprised you admitted it, though."

"Oh come on, I'd pose more than _some_ challenge. Besides, you wouldn't win every time. And I admitted it because it's true. Plus, it's probably in the best interest of my physical well-being."

I couldn't believe this. "You seriously think that _she_ could beat you?"

"I don't _think_ she could beat me, I_ know_ she could beat me. Like I said, not every time, but it's a definite possibility."

This I had to see. "Prove it."

She spoke this time, "No. We don't have to prove anything to you."

I crossed my arms over my chest, still lying on the ground with her foot on my neck, mind you. "Then I don't believe you."

"Bones, do that thing you do, like when you knew that girl was pregnant." What? What the hell is he talking about?

"What? For you or for him?"

"For him. It'll be more impressive, and more proof, if you do it for him." And what, exactly, was she going to do 'for me'?

She turned back to me and just stared for a minute. It was really freaky. Like, _really_ freaky. Turns out, that was nothing compared to what she was going to say.

"You injured your left ankle. And your right knee. The knee was probably because of the ankle injury."

Damn. "Yeah. Slipped on some ice while on crutches."

"Judging by how you're lying on the ground, you've also injured your left shoulder. Likely a sports injury, since you run like an athlete." What the fuck?! Did she have x-ray vision or something? "These injuries would be very easy to exploit. Though, even if you were in peak physical health I could still successfully incapacitate you." Okay, this chick belongs in, like a psych ward or something. Who the hell knows all this shit? And can figure it out just by staring at me? Well, Booth did say he found her in a museum. Either way, this is freaking me _out_.

"Should I keep going?" she asked. I shook my head 'no.'

I watched Booth nod proudly. Who the hell is proud of something like that? "You believe us now?"

"You know what? Sure. Though I might feel a little better if you," I looked at Booth, "Cuffed me. She's kinda creeping me out."

He laughed. "You should just be happy that I didn't let her take you down."

Oh, was I ever.


	12. Heaven

A/N: I'm in a pretty good mood, so I thought I'd give you all a present for the weekend before I go off to play Taboo and drink wine with my coworkers.

This is pure fluff. I hope you enjoy it :)

* * *

**Heaven**

They were all at some fancy banquet for who-knows-what. All anyone knew was that they were required to be there and they were required to dress up like nobody's business. They'd all come in at different times, but had been seated together at the same small table in the corner of the room. No one brought dates because no one wanted to be there in the first place. It was unspoken, but if they were all forced to be there they might as well suffer together.

Booth was dancing with Angela and idly wondering where his partner had wandered off to. She'd been dancing with some sleazebag earlier and he hoped that she'd managed to escape. And, for once, his description of this guy as a sleazebag wasn't out of jealousy (well, not as much as usual). The guy really was a top-of-the-line, first-class slimeball. No man any woman at this gala should be dancing with, much less talking to. In fact, Booth had, while warily eyeing Brennan and Mr. Scumbag, been wondering who in the hell let the guy in. Really, wasn't there supposed to be security at this thing?

His thoughts wandered back to his partner. She looked gorgeous tonight, he reflected. Actually, gorgeous didn't even begin to cover it. She was wearing this high in the front, low in the back, floor-length dress made of some kind of shimmery, dark charcoal gray material. It hugged her in all the right places, form fitting down to her hips and then flowing out from there. It looked to be a halter dress, since her back was entirely bare, but the neck of the dress didn't dip down obscenely; rather it scooped to just below her collarbone and accented her shoulders perfectly.

She looked _incredible_. Beyond incredible, really. She was truly stunning tonight, even moreso than usual. Booth hadn't thought it possible until now. Angela would have a field day if she could know what he was thinking.

When the song ended, he walked Angela back to the table and decided that he'd go find out where Bones was.

He found her in the hallway, absently examining the pictures hanging on the wall. She didn't appear to see or hear him come up, so he leaned casually in a doorway to watch as she meandered down the hall. If he died and went to Heaven, and Heaven was watching Bones wander down the hallway in this dress, then he would be a happy man for all of eternity. In fact, Booth was almost positive that Heaven consisted of Bones period. All the better if she was wearing that dress.

After a few minutes, he decided that he was curious as to why she was staring at "art" instead of dancing at the party. She seemed to have been enjoying herself before, Mr. Slimeball notwithstanding.

"What's up, Bones?"

She didn't startle, merely looked up to where he was leaning. He wondered if anything startled this woman.

"Hey, Booth. Just taking a break." She went back to examining the walls, but at a faster pace than before, making her way toward him in the process.

"A break? You looked like you were having fun. Well, until you started dancing with that sleazebag anyway." He didn't move, just watched as she approached.

"Sleazebag?" She raised her eyebrows. "Why must you jealously judge every man I interact with?"

"This time it's not the jealousy talking, Bones. This guy was an honest-to-god sleazebag."

"So you admit that you're jealous, then?" She was standing in front of him now, arms loosely crossed in front of her. He just smiled. "You're right, though, he was a sleazebag."

"Ha! I told you." Triumphant.

"You did not. I knew he was a sleazebag before you even said anything. He's why I'm out here, actually." She lifted her chin in defiance at the first part, but said the last rather darkly.

Booth was on the offensive immediately. Well, cautiously on the offensive. One can't protect Temperance Brennan too overtly when danger is not imminent. One risks getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter sprinkled with parsley and served by some waiter in a penguin suit.

"Oh…?" He let the question hang in the air slightly.

"Relax, Booth. I took care of it." She shrugged.

"What exactly does 'I took care of it' mean? Cause, you know, you and I have very different ideas of what 'I took care of it' means in situations like this." Booth leaned back against the doorframe, but was still somewhat tense.

"He seemed to think it prudent to suggest, in a rather vulgar manner, that he and I go to a not-so-secluded corner so that I could, in the vernacular, give him a blowjob."

"He WHAT?" Booth straightened up at her statement and clenched his fists.

She cut him off, though, "I, however, was inclined to do no such thing. He didn't seem to like that, so to emphasize my point I kneed him in the balls. You should be proud, I remembered that cop-talk you taught me. Anyway, I did it harder than necessary, really, and I don't think he's going to be wanting a blowjob, or be capable of receiving one for that matter, for a long time."

"Thatta girl, Bones." Booth relaxed again and chuckled. Winced slightly, too, though. The guy deserved it, no question, but still. Some things just make you wince.

"What are _you_ doing out here, Booth?" She emphasized the 'you' with a light poke to his chest.

"Looking for you."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not a child, Booth. You don't need to treat me like one."

Hands up in defense he countered "I wasn't treating you like a child! I was merely wondering where Bones, my friend and partner, was. Idle curiosity, nothing more." Well, nothing more than the usual 'I like to know where my partner is at all times because I need to know she's not off with some guy who isn't me or in mortal danger,' but she didn't need to know that.

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him. "You know where I am, now you can go back inside."

"And what are you going to do? Stand in the hallway by yourself for the rest of the night? Yeah, right. One of my jobs as your friend is to force you to be social on occasion. This is one of those occasions. If I'm going back in there, you're coming with me." He looked pretty pleased with himself for his argument. If he had to suffer through the rest of that party, he wasn't going to do it alone. And suffering with Bones present would be more enjoyable.

"I'd rather stay out here for a little while. People have been staring at me all night. It's slightly unnerving." She said offhandedly, resuming her examination of the walls.

"Can't imagine why," he muttered under his breath.

"Why?" She turned her head to look at him.

"What?" What was she talking about?

"You said 'Can't imagine why,' and I want to know why you can't imagine why." He marveled at how she's always so earnestly serious when she asks these kinds of questions.

"First: it's a sarcastic saying that means 'I know exactly why.' And second: You're serious? Did you even look in a mirror before you came here tonight, Bones?" Did she really not know?

"Of course I looked in a mirror, Booth! I can't put on makeup without one."

He walked right into that one. "A full-length mirror, Bones. Did you look in a full-length mirror before going out?"

"No, but what does that have to do with anything? Is there something wrong with my dress?" She looked down at herself and attempted to twist around to see the whole dress.

He sighed. "What am I going to do with you, Bones?" She just looked at him like he was crazy. "Not literally. Come here." He spied an enormous, full-length mirror halfway down the hall, grabbed her arm, and stood her in front of it.

"This is why people have been staring at you all night."

"Because I'm wearing a dress?" She really was that clueless right now.

"Because you look _incredible_ in that dress. The men are staring at you because you look absolutely incredible, and the women are staring at you because they want to kill you. Except for maybe Angela." Off her look he amended, "They want to kill you because you're gorgeous and their dates are staring at you."

She didn't answer; she merely blinked rather surprisedly and slightly embarrassed.

Eager to see the pink tinge on her cheeks last, he added, "Angela says you're the hottest thing she's seen in years. That's saying something, Bones." He was not disappointed, she blushed even more.

"Well, she says the same about you." It was so cute, how she tried to embarrass him when she was embarrassed.

"Damn straight she does! If she didn't, I'd say she needed her eyes checked." He flashed his cheekiest grin at her.

"The ego on you!"

"Oh come on, I'm hot and we all know it. I've known it for years." He moved to stand behind her, and they were talking to each other in the mirror.

"You're incorrigible." She crossed her arms but couldn't keep from smiling.

"You love it. You're always looking for opportunities to deflate my very healthy ego, don't deny it." He smiled back and embraced her from behind, arms around her waist and head on her shoulder.

She smiled at their reflection for a few moments before saying ruefully, "You know what Angela would say right now?"

"Before or after: 'You two need to go make gorgeous babies. Right now.'?"

She laughed, "Before. She'd say we're perfect together."

"We are," he agreed, squeezing her gently. She lowered her arms to rest on his and tilted her head sideways until their heads touched, content to watch their reflections. After a minute he asked, "How 'bout it, Bones?"

Straightening up, she regarded him seriously in the mirror. "The 'perfect' part, the 'making' part, or the 'babies' part?"

"Option D: any of the above. Option E: all of the above." He was careful to keep his expression, and his body, loose and open.

Turning her head away slightly, she whispered, "I'm not so sure about E, Booth."

He held her tighter, one arm moving across her chest to grasp her shoulder. "I like D just as much, Bones." He smiled at her in the mirror before gently kissing her cheek. He was wrong before. _This_ was Heaven. Now he got to touch Bones (almost) whenever he wanted. He truly could die happy. He continued kissing down the side of her face and her neck. She closed her eyes until he started placing sucking kisses at the top of her shoulder.

"Mmmm, you need to stop that."

He smiled. "Why, am I bothering you?"

"In a manner of speaking." He chuckled. With one last nip at the side of her neck he let go of her and said, "If we don't get back in there soon, Angela's going to come looking for us. We might want to wait until later to tell her she was right."

Bones smirked, "True. I don't want the whole party knowing about the hot sex we're having before we even get to have it!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "We'll never hear the end of it now."


	13. All That I Have

**SPOILER WARNING!!!  
WARNING!!!  
SPOILER WARNING!!!**

**Now that I have your attention. First, this theme contains themes of abuse.  
**

**Second, this theme contains spoilers for an upcoming episode! I've been bad and read the sides (guest star script excerpts), and something in one of the sides wouldn't let me go until I wrote about it. That said, I have done my best to disguise who the spoiler refers to, but I'm not sure how well I've succeeded. Thus the fact that you can tell that Brennan is the other participant in the conversation should tell you the spoilers aren't about her and that I made everything about her up.**

**In other news, sorry it's taken me a while to update. I should hopefully have two more themes up by the end of the day. We'll see. And thanks to SD :)  
**

**

* * *

  
All That I Have**

She sat down across from me after closing the door. I was surprised, she wasn't who I was expecting.

"Where did you get them?" Point-blank, this woman. No one stood a chance against her. Well, with the minor exception of nearly all things pop culture.

"Get what?" Blunt she may be, but she doesn't always give you all of the necessary information to follow her train of thought. I'm not a mind-reader, you know.

She didn't answer, just stared at me. Hard. Pointedly. Like I should know exactly what she's talking about. It was very strange, only because she usually comes right out and says things, doesn't make you guess. I actually didn't think she knew how to be _not_ obvious. Apparently I was wrong. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I was curious, though it's not really any of my business." She shrugged and made to leave.

Realization dawned. "I was three."

She blanched but otherwise showed no outward sign of how appalled I knew she was. Swallowing visibly she repeated, slightly breathlessly, "Three."

After a pause I asked, "How did you know?" I was deeply curious; there was no way she could know. We hadn't had any interactions where she would have had an opportunity to see.

"At the show, when Booth took your shirt." Ah, I'd forgotten about that. Naturally she would have seen, and known what they were. I'd hoped no one had noticed but I'd also forgotten just how observant she is. There's a reason she's a world-renowned forensic anthropologist.

"I was hoping no one had noticed."

She looked sympathetic. Standing, she untucked her shirt and pulled it up to reveal her left side; it was covered in crisscrossing scars, much like the arm or leg of someone who self-injures, a cutter. I moved to the other side of my desk to get a closer look.

"One of my foster brothers liked knives." 'Liked' was an understatement given the number of scars on her side. Obsessed might be a better choice. "And inflicting pain."

"Just here?" I really hoped it was just there. I didn't want to think about what it would have been like if he carved her up anywhere else.

"Just here. He liked re-opening the wounds, said it caused more pain. He was right. I finally got moved when I had to get stitches to close some of them, they'd been opened too many times and wouldn't stop bleeding." It was my turn to blanch. I could see exactly which cuts she was referring to. Pointing to them, it would be inappropriate to touch without permission, I said "Here, here, and here."

She nodded. I sighed.

Pulling her shirt back down, she asked "Three?"

"And four. And five. It stopped when I was six."

"Because you moved."

"Because I moved." She didn't press me for more, I'm sure she could see where it would go. That's one thing I really like about her, she'll let it go until you're ready to tell her. And this was something I was sure she would be able to understand when I did tell her. "To wonderful, wonderful people." She smiled at that, she liked a happy ending. "They died, but because of them I made it. I made it past six years old and I made it to where I am today."

Her smile faltered slightly, but I knew she understood. And I knew that she was secretly wishing that she had made it because of someone. She made it past fifteen years old and to where she is today because of herself. She didn't have help. I had needed help then, six is too young to make it on your own. She didn't need help at fifteen the way I did at six. That's not to say that she didn't need help at fifteen, she just couldn't get it. She has help now, though. From all of us. Better late than never. And Booth has helped her so very much thus far, even though she still has a ways to go.

"Can I see them again?" I'm practically certain that just by looking at them she'd be able to tell me the instrument used and the force applied. And I'm not sure I want her to share that knowledge, even with me. But I obliged, unbuttoning my shirt and sliding it off my shoulders, turning around so she could see. She showed me hers, it's only fair that she get to see mine up close.

She stared at them for a few long minutes before sighing and pulling my shirt up to hide them once again.

"They're all that I have," I said, "But without them I wouldn't have had my parents. And without my parents, I wouldn't be here today." There was a double meaning there, and despite her usual failure to catch such things I knew she got that one.

She surprised me again by pulling me into a fierce embrace. She's not usually so physical with anyone but Booth, occasionally Angela, but I hugged her back. It's a good thing that she's beginning to initiate physical contact with others. Especially because I'm sure she desperately craves it sometimes. When she released me she rested her hands on my shoulders and said seriously, "They may be all that you have, but without them you wouldn't be you."

Despite the fact that she's a best-selling author, I don't think I've ever heard her say anything quite so poetic. My hands were at her waist, so I softly squeezed her left side to silently let her know that her statement applied to her, too, and then smiled as she left. She may not understand a lot of things, but this she gets. And for that, even if it's all that I have, I'm grateful.


	14. Blood

Been there, done that, blahblahblah. This general storyline has been done by millions of others but I _really_ wanted to use the quote: "The families that we are given and the families that we find," which is credited to my friend Chloe's poem dedication that she read at Baccalaureate when we graduated. Also, I originally wrote this story for the "Family" theme and then decided that I wanted to use it for "Blood" instead.

Thank-yous go out to SapphireDesire for beta-ing, and more thank-yous go out to everyone who's added me to their various alerts and favorites lists and for reviewing :) It really makes my day.

Lastly, updates might become more sporadic. I'm kind of burning out on life at the moment which leaves me with little energy for anything but dragging my ass out of bed for work and class.

* * *

  
**Blood**

She stood up at the balcony in the lounge, watching, not quite ready to join yet.

They were all there: Booth, Hodgins, Angela, Cam, Max, Russ, Zach, hell, even Sweets. She couldn't remember why they had all gathered, just that they had. The why wasn't all that important anyway.

She liked watching them all, together. Rare were the moments when she could just observe them all, even rarer was when she could observe them all at once. Every time, though, she was intrigued by how her families meshed. She had two families: her biological one and her non-biological one.

Her non-biological family was larger, and more eclectic. Her biological family consisted solely of her brother and her father. Well, there were her aunts, but she wasn't sure yet if she wanted to contact them. So for now they didn't count.

Someone downstairs asked where she was. She heard Booth answer, "I think she went to the bathroom. She'll be back in a few minutes, I'm sure." He knew she wasn't in the bathroom. And he knew that she knew that he was absolutely aware of where she was. She liked that, though, that she had someone back in her life who cared about where she was all the time. Not to mention the fact that he understood that sometimes she just needed some time to herself.

She continued watching, and mulling (despite the fact that she told Cam it was a waste of time) over her two families.

Her biological family was back, but she couldn't trust them. Not the way she did before. Once someone has left, there's always the risk they'd do it again. It's easier the second time. You've got that history, that past of having left and knowing that everyone had survived in your absence. Surviving didn't necessarily mean surviving unscathed, though.

Max had come back. But he never stayed for long. At first it was because Booth was trying to arrest him. Once he was acquitted he left again, only to reappear months later instead of years, suddenly wanting a job at the lab so he could be around more. He'd proven that he would return, but she could never predict exactly _when_ he would come back. That unpredictability unsettled her and it certainly didn't engender a return to the absolute trust she used to have in him.

Russ had come back, too, though mostly at Booth's insistence. She wouldn't even have talked to him if Booth hadn't forced her to. And while he was easier to find than Max most of the time, he lived in North Carolina and had Amy and her girls to take care of. It's not that he didn't care, but he had his own life. Had had his own life for so long that she didn't really factor in anymore. She was no longer very high on his list of priorities. Marco and Polo had fallen to the wayside.

Regardless, they were her biological family, therefore, she cared for them. That's just how it works. She didn't, however, care for them as much as she cared for her non-biological family.

This family had accumulated over time. She hadn't even realized that she'd accumulated them until Booth pointed it out. It started with Angela, but as she continued working at the Jeffersonian, they just kind of stuck around and were absorbed.

Stuck around. That's the key part. These are the people who, for the last few years of her life, have stuck by her. They have worked, searched, fought, cried, and laughed together. These were the people she turned to (as much as she dared) when things got rough. These were the people who searched for her when she was kidnapped. These were the people who hugged her when they found her. These were the people who understood that just because she didn't react "normally" that it doesn't mean she doesn't feel the same way they do. Well, they mostly realized that.

They took care of her, made sure she ate, slept, pushed forward, fought, and everything in between. Without them, without this family, she wouldn't be where she is today. Without them she wouldn't have found her biological family again. Without them she wouldn't be the happiest she's been in years.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, Bones?" It's become increasingly rare that he's been able to sneak up on her, but he still managed occasionally.

"The families that we are given and the families that we find."

"Very introspective. Are you coming to positive conclusions or negative ones?" He leaned backwards against the balcony next to her, so that their sides touched.

"A little bit of both." She didn't move to face him, preferring to continue leaning on her elbows, looking down at her families instead. "My biological family has come back, but I think I like my non-biological family better. I'm not sure yet if that's okay."

"Ah."

They stood in silence for a moment before Booth spoke again. "You know, I can understand why you might like the family you found better."

"Yeah?" She shifted to look at him.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Well, like I told you before, if you know that your family's going to hurt you tomorrow, how do you forgive that? Your family, your father and brother, they did something terrible. And, sure, they're trying to atone for that now, but how do you really, totally and absolutely, forgive them for hurting you like they did? You can't. It's not something that you, that anyone, can ever fully forget. And there's always the risk that they'll do it again." He looked at her earnestly, "I like Max and Russ, you know that, but what they did to you? I'm not sure that's something that anyone can ever fully recover from. It's no wonder you think you like your other family better. And that's not a bad thing. We, your other family, we haven't hurt you like that, and there's a hope in you that we won't. There's still the fear that we will, but you'd rather hope that we won't right now. This makes it easier to like us more, because it's not yet fact, it's not yet definitive that we'll hurt you. And maybe, just maybe, we won't ever." He paused, "Blood isn't everything, Bones. Sometimes the ties to the people you choose are stronger and more meaningful than the blood ties you couldn't choose for yourself."

She smiled. "Thanks, Booth."

"Like I told you before, you're not a bad anything." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Come on, Bones. Let's get back to your birthday party. People have been wondering where you disappeared to."


	15. Waiting

I got "Save the Last Dance for Me" stuck in my head and this is what came out of it. It's a good song :)

* * *

**Waiting (Companion to Heaven (Ch. 12))**

"Hey man," I said as I sat down at the table.

"Hodgins," Booth nodded, fingering his nearly-empty glass.

"Where's Dr. B.?"

"Out there," Booth waved his hand in the direction of the dance floor. "Some guy asked her to dance about ten minutes ago."

"And you're just going to sit here, waiting for her to come back?" I couldn't believe this.

"Yep," he answered, draining his glass.

"Dude, seriously? Usually you would've grabbed Cam or Angela by this point, made your way over to where she is, and glared at this mystery man until he left. And you certainly would never have described him as 'some guy'!"

"Bones wouldn't like that very much," he chuckled.

"Since when has that ever stopped you?! Where is Booth and what have you done with him?" This was incredible. Never had I seen him so relaxed when Brennan was off with another guy. I was beginning to wonder if he hadn't sustained some serious head trauma while my back was turned.

He laughed again, "Relax, Hodgins. She's just dancing, she'll be back in a bit."

"No, really. We all know you're head-over-heels for her, so you really need to explain to me why you're just sitting here, looking perfectly happy when she's off with another guy."

For once he didn't refute the "head-over-heels." Sitting up straight he leaned in toward me, "I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"You know that old Drifters song? 'Save the last dance for me'?" I nodded, "I'm waiting for the last dance." He sat back in his chair, a soft smile on his face.

At that moment Dr. B. herself appeared, flushed and smiling, holding out her hand. "Come on, Booth, dance with me. These heels aren't conducive to anything but pain in the morning, so after this I'm done for the night."

I watched as his smile grew exponentially when he took her hand and stood up. Whoa. I just got that song reference. Unable to stop myself I asked, "When?"

She looked confused, but his smile got even bigger, which I didn't think was possible. "About an hour ago." Dr. B. caught on then and blushed. I've never seen her blush before, it's actually really cute. I was then hit with the realization that I'd never seen her truly happy before, either. And how beautiful she was when she is. I mean, we all knew they were in love with each other, but I don't think it had ever occurred to us just how happy he makes her.

I grinned at them, "Good for you, man."

Oh my god, Angela's gonna flip!

* * *

A/N: The chorus, for those of you not familiar with the song:

_But don't forget who's taking you home  
And in whose arms you're gonna be,  
So darlin', save the last dance for me._


	16. Breaking the Rules

I'm alive, I swear! I've been having trouble with motivation to do anything lately, so I haven't been writing. Which means I haven't been posting, etc., etc. The good news is that I have two themes for you today! The bad news is that this contains very minor spoilers for Booth family stuff (who was around, who wasn't, who raised them). I saw these spoilers a while ago, don't remember where, but it's really nothing major. And for all I know they're now obsolete and wrong. Only the end of the season will tell. Also, I've been somewhat disillusioned with Bones lately, I feel they're making Booth too goofy and Brennan too socially inept. Anyway, that's just me.

Huge thanks to SapphireDesire for still betaing for me even though I hadn't written in over a month. And to everyone who's added my stories to their favorites lists or who's added me to their story/author alerts or who has left a review. You make me very happy :)

* * *

  
**Breaking the Rules**

It was breaking the rules, and I knew that, but I did it anyway. I've already broken some pretty serious rules today, so what the hell, right? Besides, downloading her file will be much easier to explain than stealing a body from the FBI. Well, it'll be easier to explain to the "authorities." My brother…not so much. If he ever finds out, that is. And if he does, I'm screwed. Not only will he beat the shit out of me, he'll tell her. And then I'm not only screwed, I'm a dead man, if her file is any indication of what she could do to me.

Seeley will absolutely understand why I stole the body. What I don't think he'll understand is my need to download her file, too. "Spring Cleaning," Hodgins called those files. And I thought Seel was exaggerating when he told me how much of a conspiracy nut Hodgins is.

Before I can even think about how I'd explain this to Seeley, I need to explain it to you. I downloaded her file because I needed to know _why_. She fascinates me with her hatred of me and her devotion to him. He might call it snooping, but she's certainly not going to tell me anything, if her pushing me off of that barstool and what she said when I tried to refuse to get the body are any indication. These files are thorough, detailed, complete with medical records. I want to know why she got so upset about what was going on between him and me during that whole RICO thing, why she got so upset with me when he was kidnapped, why she clings to him so fiercely.

Now that I know what I know, though, I'm not so sure I should have looked this deep. There are some things that you just don't need to know about another person and I think I've found them. They're very, very close but I don't think even Seel knows some of this stuff.

I'm not sure he'd want to.

She started off typical, I guess. Well, as typical as you can be when your entire identity is changed and abandoned at age two. Average childhood with the minor exception of being a genius. Except she was kept in the same classes as the other kids her age, which is weird given just how brilliant she is. You'd think she'd have been pushed ahead, gotten a jump-start. The file did say something about poor social and emotional development, and that she would often refuse to speak in class. That might have something to do with it.

Parents abandoned her when she was 15. Her brother soon followed suit. I hadn't known that. Seel and I can understand that to an extent, I think. Mom gone, Dad a drunk. If it hadn't been for our grandfather, I don't think either of us would have survived. Seel especially. She didn't have anyone to save her, though. She spent three years in the system and, to be perfectly honest, I haven't got a fucking _clue_ how she made it through even _slightly_ okay, much less all A's and a full ride to Northwestern. Anyone else would probably be dead by now. Drugs, suicide, murder, doesn't matter. Most people would have flat-out given up. I should have realized Tempe would be different. She's a fighter, all right. How she even got out of bed in the morning is beyond me. Though that probably explains how and why she got to where she is today.

It looks like she at least had one good foster family. The last one, it seems. They did the most for her, helped get her into Northwestern and do all the paperwork to get her emancipated and with financial aid and all that. The rest…well, that kind of abuse and neglect is more than I can fathom. I actually threw up while reading it. More than once. I thought Seel and I had it bad when we were stuck with dad, but she was a girl and she didn't have an older brother to protect her like I did. No surprise that she's certified in three martial arts and is a registered marksman today. She'd probably know her way around a street fight, too.

College seems to have been good to her. She excelled and graduated early, with an acceptance into one of the most prestigious forensic anthropology graduate programs and another full ride to boot. No friends, though. According to the file she spent pretty much all of her time alone, no steady boyfriends or other people who stayed in her life very long. Still hadn't found her family, though it seems that her brother tried to look her up every once in a while. She either didn't know or ignored him. Knowing Tempe, my guess would be the latter.

In grad school, however, some of the nasty stuff started cropping up again. She was okay for the first few years, though she still didn't seem to have any steady friends. With the exceptions of the affair with her professor, Michael Stires, and Pete, the steady boyfriend she lived with for a few months, the boyfriend department seemed to be pretty sparse, too. Seems her focus and drive hadn't wavered much and that she was more interested in work than socializing. The last few years of grad school is where it started to get bad again, when she started going on digs by herself.

She went everywhere: Guatemala, El Salvador, Germany, Russia, Southeast Asia, Rwanda, Darfur. Some of them were fine, but others didn't seem to want their secrets to be brought back to life. Hardly surprising when she was digging in places where those secrets had practically just been buried. She got off "easy" in El Salvador, despite the fact that she was beaten to shit. At least this time it was only for three days. She wasn't that lucky on several of her other digs; longer captivity, more severe beatings, torture, the list goes on. I wish they hadn't included the pictures. Those made me sick all over again.

Once she started working with Seeley, things calmed down again. Partly because she hasn't gone on as many digs, and partly because he's there to protect her. He takes care of her in a way she hasn't had anyone to for a long time. He took a bullet for her, for crying out loud! Yeah, I looked up his file, too, first chance I got. His made me sick, too, though not as sick as hers. He never talked about his time in the army, and, well, I'm like him. We're both just naturally curious, though I'll give up when they tell me to.

My questions haven't been answered, though. Maybe they never will be. I thought this might give me some insight into why she seems to hate me. Instead, I only learned a whole lot of things I'd rather forget. No one should have to go through things like that, especially all in one lifetime.

I guess that's what I get for breaking the rules.


	17. Sorrow

No spoilers in this one.

* * *

  
**Sorrow**

The two of them were out eating dinner. Neither knew I was here; it was purely a random coincidence that I was in the first place. Amy and I had gotten a sitter for the weekend so we could go up to D.C., and, just as our appetizers arrived, I saw them walk in. It didn't look like they were on a date, but this wasn't the diner so I wondered what they were doing here. I thought they only ate together at the diner.

I pointed them out to Amy, but I didn't want them to know that I was here. I'd seen them together before, sure, but I'd never seen them when they thought that they didn't know anyone else around them, or when they thought no one was watching.

She didn't look happy, not at all. She looked thinner, too, more ragged. It was clear to me that she hadn't been eating or sleeping for a while. I wondered if he'd noticed. I was almost certain that he had. I may not be around much, but I know that he cares about her too much to miss something like that. It was easier for me to tell, since I don't see her every day. He didn't look too hot, either, though. I wondered what had been going on. Long, tough case, maybe?

The waitress came by to take their orders, and even across the restaurant I could tell that she was refusing to order, saying that she wasn't hungry. He ordered for her anyway, which annoyed her. I saw the look she gave him. To his credit, he looked right back and repeated the order to the waitress. She crossed her arms and slouched back in her seat, defeated. I had to chuckle. She always did resort to pouting when she didn't get her way. I had to admit, though, that she didn't put up as much of a fight as I would have anticipated. That in and of itself worried me. When added to her appearance, I knew something had to be up.

I watched as he tried to talk her about whatever was bothering her, but she avoided looking at him, playing with her straw instead. He reached out to still her fidgeting fingers and she visibly flinched at his touch. Undaunted, he kept his hand on hers and kept talking. She shook her head.

Their food arrived then, and she looked honestly relieved to have a distraction. However, her idea of a distraction was to push the food around on her plate while continuing to avoid looking at her partner. She'd take little bites every so often, but it was clear that she was just trying to appease him so he'd let her alone. It was also clear that she was fooling no one, except maybe herself. I had half a mind to go over there myself and make her eat, but I wanted to see what he'd do. I have come to acknowledge that he is the one taking care of her now, not me or Dad. As much as I wish she would let me look out for her, he does a better job than either of us has in a long time. And she lets him.

He let it go for a few more minutes before reaching out with his fork and stealing a bite off of her plate. She glared at him and tried to smack his hand, but he was too quick. She said something, probably telling him off for stealing her food, but he only laughed and stole another bite.

Indignant, she pulled her plate away from him when he tried a third time. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and pointed at her with his fork, taunting her. That only irritated her even more, and I watched as she stuck her fork into his meal and stole a bite for herself. He smirked in response, and made to cover his meal when she went in for a second bite. She was successful in stealing her second bite, but that may have more to do with the fact that his goal was to let her steal the food rather than her superior skill. I had to give him credit; not many people can trick my sister into eating.

He taunted her again, prompting her to steal some more of his food before pulling her own plate away and taking a few bites. Then he got this look on his face, this kind of predatory, conspiratorial half-smile that I've seen before, right when he's about to say something that he knows will really get her going. I was not disappointed; halfway through whatever he was saying her jaw dropped and she gaped at him. Mission accomplished, he leaned back with a smug smile and crossed his arms across his chest. Never one to give up a chance to have the last word, my sister took the bait, hook, line, and sinker. She launched into an explanation of whatever it was he was goading her about, pausing every so often to eat when he interrupted to make another comment to keep her going, which was often.

This went on for the better part of ten minutes, until she had finished her meal. When she was done, they both looked to be in better moods and he was smiling softly to himself as she asked for the check. No doubt because he was happy that she was one, happier, and two, had eaten all of her dinner.

I swear, that man could get her to do anything. And as I watch them leave, it hits me, this incredible sorrow, because it's true, he _could_ get her to do anything. No one else could, though, not anymore. Maybe when she was a kid I could have, she practically worshipped the ground I walked on, but not now. Now-- now I'm lucky that she speaks to me at all, after what I did. What we did. And I'm pretty sure that if it wasn't for Booth, she would still be refusing to answer my calls. I try not to wonder what happened during those fifteen years when we didn't talk, but it's hard not to sometimes. While I'm sorry that I can't be there for her anymore, she wouldn't let me if I tried, I am glad that she has him. Even if she doesn't realize it yet.

* * *

**A/N or request or something: I wrote a companion piece to "Dark" (Chapter 8) because at the time I (mentally) couldn't leave Brennan in the closet like that. I forced myself not to post it because not everything gets a happy ending. Now I'm okay with leaving it like it is, but was wondering if people wanted to see a more uplifting resolution to that theme?**


	18. Silence

Not sure how I feel about this one, but it came outta nowhere and started with the thought of Max telling Brennan that he was going Christmas shopping. Then it wouldn't go away until I wrote it.

Thank you, as usual, to SD for adding in the details I always forget :)

Also, a note: I've got exams in about 3 weeks, so I may not be posting anything for a while. We'll see. My muse tends to be more active when I'm supposed to be doing something else...namely studying.

* * *

**Silence**

She had been sitting in her office, chatting with Angela, when he called.

"_Hey, Baby, I'm going to have to take a raincheck on dinner tonight. I've got some last-minute Christmas shopping to do_."

The silence was deafening. She had no idea what to say. She'd acquiesced because she didn't really know what else to do. Angela had asked who called, and she'd answered, but she didn't say what about. She'd known Angela thought something was wrong, but fortunately Cam called Angela away before she could ask. Something about the Angelator, or Hodgins, or something else that had absolutely nothing to do with her or the phone call. She hadn't really been paying attention. She moved over to her desk and pretended to catch up on some paperwork.

That's how Booth found her about an hour later. "Hey, Bones. What's up?"

She looked up, distracted. "Oh, hey, Booth. Just finishing up some paperwork." It was mostly true. She _did_ have the paper work in front of her. The fact that she hadn't written anything in over an hour was irrelevant.

"You alright there, Bones?" He looked concerned.

"Hmm? Yes, I'm fine. A little tired, I think." She was suddenly feeling very drained. "Did you need me? I think I might take a nap."

He narrowed his eyes. Since when did Temperance Brennan voluntarily take naps in the middle of the work day? Or ever? "No, just dropped by to give Cam something from the last case. Thought I'd say hello on my way."

"Okay." She crossed the room to her couch. "Do you think you could tell her not to bother me for a while? Maybe an hour or so? I'll stay late to make up what I'm missing, but I think I really need to lie down for a little while."

She turned away from him while speaking, but not before he caught a glimpse of that lost-little-girl look she sometimes got when she was feeling particularly vulnerable. "Sure, Bones, no problem. Though I doubt you need to make up any time. I'm sure you've put in more than enough overtime to take an hour off this afternoon. You sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thanks, Booth." She managed a small, tired smile as she lay down.

"Sweet dreams, Bones." Her smile had been genuine, but much sadder than usual. He shut the door on his way out and headed over to Cam.

"Hey, Cam. Got that paperwork you needed." She motioned for him to put it on her desk. "Listen, you talk to Bones today?"

She looked up, "Not since this morning. I've been elbow deep in cadaver all day. Not exactly her area of expertise, at least while it's still got flesh. Why?"

"I was just in there, and she seemed a bit off. She's taking a nap." Booth's concern was evident in his voice.

"A nap? She seemed fine this morning…"

"Yeah. Oh, she asked me to ask you to let her sleep for an hour or two. Said she'd make it up later tonight."

"Like she hasn't already put in enough overtime," Cam muttered.

Booth chuckled humorlessly, "That's what I said."

"Well, Angela was talking to her a while ago, maybe she knows what's going on?"

"Maybe. Thanks, Cam."

He found Angela sketching in her office. "Hey Special Agent Hot Stuff, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You talk to Bones today?" He flopped down in one of her chairs.

She frowned. "Yeah, actually. She got a call from her dad while I was with her. I don't know what he said, but I can tell you that it definitely wasn't good news." She frowned more deeply, "Why? Do you know what he said?"

He sighed, running a hand over his face, "No, I didn't even know he'd called. I stopped in to say hi on my way to see Cam and she seemed really distracted. And then she lay down to take a nap and asked me to tell people not to bother her."

Angela had stopped sketching by this point. "You going to ask her what he said?"

"No, she's sleeping. I don't want to bother her." He pulled out his phone, "I will, however, call Max."

Booth tapped his foot impatiently as Max's phone rang. He was about to give up when Max finally answered.

" Max? Booth. Listen, you called Bones earlier. What'd you talk about? ... Humor me and answer the question." He paused as Max answered, and then nearly jumped out of his seat, startling Angela. "_You said what_?" His voice was low and dangerous. "Why on earth would you say that to her? … What do you mean 'what am I talking about?'? Do I need to remind you what happened last time you told her that you were goin-- … she's not going to talk to you. … No, she's sleeping, and even if she was awake, she's not going to want to talk to you right now. … Fine, leave her a message, then, but don't be surprised if it takes her a while to return it. She's only just recently started celebrating Christmas again, and this isn't going to help anything." He hung up.

Angela shot him a look, "What did he say that's got you all hot and bothered?"

Booth rubbed his hand over his face again, "He bailed on dinner with her tonight, said he had some last-minute Christmas shopping to do." Angela's face fell. "Yeah, I know. She doesn't even like it when _I_ tell her I'm going Christmas shopping."

"You should talk to her," she gave him a pointed look.

"I will, don't worry. I'm trying to decide if I should do it now or give her some more time to sleep." Angela gave him another look. "Okay, okay. You're right, she's probably not sleeping right now anyway."

Turns out she was asleep, though Booth knew the motivation for the nap had little to do with the fact that she actually did need one. Before going over to the couch, he checked her phone: one missed call and one new voicemail. At least he'd left a message like Booth told him to.

As he bent down next to her he saw the tear tracks on her face. She was crying in her _sleep._ Whispering "Bones," he gently shook her shoulder to wake her up. Her eyes flew open, she grabbed his wrist, hard, and then froze. He'd have a bruise in the morning. Blinking once, she looked at him and he saw fear before recognition kicked in.

"Booth?" She loosened her hold on his wrist and relaxed her posture, though she didn't sit up.

"Yeah, Bones, it's me." He patted her shoulder. "Your dad called. Left you a message."

Her expression darkened. Curling up tighter on the couch, she looked at him again and said, "I thought I told you that I was napping."

"You did. I came back anyway."

"How did you know he left me a message?"

"I checked your phone."

Eyes narrowing she questioned, "Why?" without speaking.

"I told him that you were sleeping and wouldn't want to talk to him, but that if he insisted on calling back that he should leave you a message."

Comprehension. "You know he called earlier. You talked to him," she accused.

"I did. Angela told me he called, and then I called him to find out why." She scowled at him. "He shouldn't have said that, Bones. He should have been smart enough to realize how stupid that was."

Shrugging she tried to play it off, "It's nothing, Booth. It's fine."

Sitting down on the floor next to the couch he ran his hand across her cheek, "You were crying, Bones, and that tells me that it's not 'nothing' and it's most definitely not 'fine'." He ran his hand up and down her arm in a soothing motion.

Abruptly she turned on her back and his hand ended up on her stomach instead of her arm. "It's stupid, Booth. It's just a rescheduled dinner."

"Bones. We both know that's not why you were crying." She looked up at the ceiling, anywhere but at him, but she didn't shy away from his touch. "It's not stupid, and it's not irrational," she huffed at that, "We both know what happened last time he told you that he was going Christmas shopping. That's not something you forget easily."

She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. "Well, it shouldn't be making me this upset."

"Should or should not aside, it is making you this upset. And I can't say I'm surprised." He slid his hand to her arm again and gave it a squeeze.

"Did you listen to the message?" She still wasn't looking at him.

"No, I only checked to see if he left one. I didn't feel like getting punched for figuring out your voicemail password. Though I doubt it would be difficult." She smiled and punched him. "Hey! I said I _didn't_ try to figure out your password!"

"Yeah, but you said it would be easy." She turned back on her side and sighed. "It shouldn't be bothering me this much."

"Yes, Bones, it should. Your father did something terrible eighteen years ago, and the last thing he said to you was that he was going Christmas shopping. I can't say that it doesn't make sense that the next time you hear he's going Christmas shopping again the fifteen-year-old girl inside of you automatically thinks the worst." He gave her arm another squeeze and then pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over her. "Come on, go back to sleep. When you wake up you can make me dinner, since I know for a fact you don't have plans for the evening." He shot her his best charm smile.

"But I only said I was taking a nap so everyone would leave me alone!" she protested, trying to sit up, "I'm not actually tired!"

He gently pushed her back down again, "If that were true, Bones, then why'd you fall asleep?" She didn't have an answer for that, so she scowled at him again. "I thought so. Besides, you need to be well rested to make me dinner!" He smiled at her again.

"Fine, I'll go back to sleep," she huffed, "But I'm _not_ cooking you dinner."

"Fair enough. _I'll_ cook _you_ dinner." He pulled the blanket back up and kissed her forehead. "But only if you actually sleep." She huffed again and he chuckled. "Sweet dreams, Bones. For real this time."


	19. Smile

This is something that popped into my head after watching one of the teaser trailers for tonight's episode (The Science in the Physicist), the "How Stupid" clip. This is short but un-betaed, because I really wanted to post it before the episode aired. I think Booth knows (or, once the sting wears off, will figure out) exactly what she was trying to say, but it was highly entertaining. Also, she's said directly that she doesn't think he's stupid (Intern in the Incinerator, when he asks her to interrogate the professor-suspect guy (Kyle) because Kyle thinks Booth is stupid), so I'm a little miffed that she can't outright say it here. Then again, this will probably actually get sorted out in the episode itself, which is exactly why I wanted to post this before the episode airs.  
That said, I may very well do another "Smile" theme, since this was kind of spur-of-the-moment. We'll see.

And the dialogue before the ------- is taken directly from the clip. The rest of the dialogue is mine.

* * *

**Smile**

"I don't care how stupid you are," she paused. "That's not any better."

"Mmm…no."

-------------------

They'd finished the case and Booth was in his office finishing up his paperwork when Brennan barged in. He looked up, "Did I not give you everything I was supposed to?"

She looked a little awkward, "No, you did. I just thought of something and I thought I should tell it to you."

Nonplussed, he slowly said, "Okay…" and sat back in his chair.

"I figured out what I should have said in the bar the other day when I kept calling you stupid. I didn't mean to call you stupid. I mean, you're not stupid, and I know that, and I don't think you're stupid, really, I was just having difficulty articulating my thoughts at the time." She was flustered and Booth had to try really hard to control the twitching at the corners of his mouth. "So, I don't think you're stupid. I know more about some things than you do, but you are definitely not stupid." She paused again, "And I apologize for calling you stupid." She stood looking at him, satisfied.

_Better late than never, I guess_, he thought, but said, "Thank you, Bones."

She nodded once, firmly, "You're welcome. And don't forget that I need your part of the paperwork by Friday," before turning and marching out.

Booth sat there for a minute, shaking his head. Hurricane Brennan was always something else. But he was glad that she had taken the time to rethink what she had said and to tell him what she had really meant. A few days late, sure, but she was trying; he had to give her points for that. He reached again for the paperwork that she had oh-so-thoughtfully reminded him was due on Friday and smiled.


	20. Tears

_A/N: Wow, it's been a while. Sorry about that. I needed a lot more time to prepare for, take, and decompress from exams than I thought. Especially decompress from. Though three exams in 72 hours will do that, I guess. Hopefully I'll be able to keep the creative juices flowing this summer and be able to update on a more regular basis._

_Shout-out to my beta, SapphireDesire, for sticking with me, and my heartfelt condolences to your friend._

_This isn't a happy theme, Hurt/Comfort and Friendship if I could choose categories. I received something and it set me off, this is what resulted. Writing it was surprisingly cathartic._

* * *

**Tears**

"…Happy Birthday dear Booth, Happy Birthday to you!"

He leaned back in his chair and grinned as Angela placed the cupcake on the table in front of him. He made quick work of the single candle, and then pulled it out to lick the frosting off the bottom. A loud cheer made him look up: the Steelers had scored another touchdown.

"Thank god for bars showing Monday Night Football!" he cheered, lamenting the fact that living in D.C. meant that he only got the Steelers when they were being broadcast nationally or playing the Redskins. Leaning over, he nudged Brennan's elbow and smiled, "Thanks for this, Bones."

She smiled back and waved him off. "I know you like your football team, and last year's birthday wasn't that great. I just thought that you might enjoy coming to the bar with us and cheering on your team since they're playing on your birthday. The cupcakes were Angela's idea."

Leave it to Brennan to downplay her role, "Yeah, but you organized it." He put his hand on her arm and squeezed, "And I really, really appreciate it." His smile got bigger as he tried to convey his gratitude. At that moment his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Yeah, Booth….He--" and then he was out the door, phone still to his ear.

"Uh, what just happened?" Cam asked, shocked, as she returned from getting another round. Everyone turned to look at Brennan, alarmed.

"Sweetie, did you two have a fight?" Angela doubted that, though. Their fights were usually quite loud, and she'd been sitting right next to them. Plus, he'd had this huge, goofy grin on his face just a second before.

Brennan shook her head no, just as perplexed and concerned as the others. "No. He thanked me for organizing this and then his phone rang. All he said was 'hello' before he just…left." Confusion shone in her face as she looked at her friends and then back toward the entrance.

They could see Booth through the window, but he was standing stock still, body language giving away no clue other than that something was wrong. Abruptly he ran his hands through his hair and paced to the corner of the bar, out of sight.

--

The tears came and there was nothing he could do to stop them. So he ran outside, hoping that no one would see. This wasn't happening. It was his fucking _birthday_ for Christ sakes! His god damn birthday. He ran his hands through his hair again and the tears kept coming. So much for thinking that this birthday would be better than the last.

--

Brennan watched him move out of sight and immediately got up to follow. Arriving outside, she found him leaning against the side of the building in the alleyway with his back to the sidewalk.

"Booth?" her voice was quiet, a harsh contrast to the busy street behind them.

He sighed, but didn't turn to face her. "Yeah, Bones?" His voice sounded strange, choked but trying to hide it. As he spoke he brought a hand to his face and rubbed.

"Are you okay?" She spoke softly again, tentatively. He never turned his back to her. This was something she wasn't experienced with, and quite honestly she didn't know what to do.

He barked out a bitter laugh that quickly choked off into a sob.

"_Yeah, Booth."_

"_Hey Seel, it's me. Happy Birthday."_

"_He—" he got cut off._

"_I waited as long as I could to tell you, but, uh, Grandad died this morning."_

That's when the tears started. That's when he got out of the bar as fast as he could. And here Bones was, asking if he was okay.

Lifting his hand again to swipe at the tears he shook his head. No, he wasn't okay. He was very far from okay right now. It was his _birthday_. He'd never liked his birthday.

By this time she had walked around to face him. She was surprised to see the tears, Booth never cried. Silently she looked at him, waiting. He didn't usually volunteer information, but this felt like one of those situations where she just needed to be quiet and he would.

He took a deep breath and blew it out again. "Jared called. My grandfather died this morning." The tears were still coming. His eyes weren't getting any dryer admitting it out loud. He reached up to brush the tears away once more when Brennan pulled him into a hug. Unprepared for the contact he didn't have time to push her away; instead he found his face buried in her shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around her torso. He hadn't known he needed a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Booth," she whispered. Not knowing what else to do, she didn't move from holding him.

She held him while he fought to control his breathing, fought to control the tears that were soaking her shirt. Quickly, too quickly really (but he needed to not fall apart in an alley next to a bar), he pulled himself together. His breathing still hitched slightly, but the tears had stopped for the moment. He rubbed his hand over his face again.

Brennan reached up and brushed a tear he missed. "I know he was very important to you."

He closed his eyes, "Yeah, he was." He opened them. "He was the only one who remembered my birthday every year. Always sent me a card. Always." He gave a sad half-smile and looked at the ground. "He forgot this year."

"Do you want me to take you home?"

He closed his eyes again, "Yeah."

--

She went back in the bar to get her things and his jacket and keys. At the last second she decided to grab the cupcake, too.

"Sweetie?" Angela's voice held the question everyone wanted an answer to.

"He just found out that his grandfather died this morning."

There was a collective sympathetic sigh, but only Cam really had an inkling of exactly what Booth's grandfather's death really meant. "Is he alright?" she asked softly.

"I think…I think he'll be better tomorrow." Brennan looked around at everyone, "Thank you for coming out tonight. I know that he really appreciated it." They all nodded sadly. "I'm going to take him home. I don't think the atmosphere of a party will fit Booth's current mood very well."

--

He was standing where she left him, leaning against the wall in the alley. She took his hand and tugged him toward the SUV, leading him to the passenger seat where he climbed in without protest.

The drive to his apartment was silent, and the silence continued once they reached his apartment. She followed him in and he pulled out an extra t-shirt and shorts for her to wear to bed. There was no question about whether or not she was staying.

When they climbed into bed she guided his head to the crook of her neck and ran her fingers through his hair. Holding him tightly she whispered, "I know he loved you very much."

His reply was muffled and thick, "You don't believe in love."

"What I believe doesn't matter. You do," she felt fresh tears on her shoulder, "And he loved you very, very much."

* * *

_11-07-1924 - 05-08-2008. You are very, very loved and very, very missed. You left some amazing memories behind, and you got to see the Red Sox win. Twice.  
_


	21. Fairy Tale

I'm sorry that it's been so long for any Bones updates. Real life left me with a lack of inspiration for a while. I can only hope that Bones inspiration holds for a while.

* * *

**Fairy Tale**

It was like a fairy tale, a dream come true. He was working at The Jeffersonian. _The Jeffersonian_! While not generally prone to using exclamation points, it was warranted. He was working under the top forensic anthropologist in the country, and among some of the best and the brightest in other fields as well.

This is why he can't understand why he did it.

He threw away the second-best thing in his life (the first being his friendship with Hodgins) because he allowed himself to be seduced by the wicked witch, the big bad wolf, or (less metaphorically) flawed logic. Unlike Dorothy, his wicked witch wasn't clearly marked with green skin and a black hat, signs that screamed "Evil Lurks Here!" in neon letters. He didn't have Little Red Riding Hood's keen senses to notice that Grandma looked a little different today, with sharp teeth and unnatural eyes.

No, Gorgomon didn't have any of those tell-tale signs. He came armed with logic. Logic that was only proven faulty when Dr. Brennan pointed out that he, Zack, had waited until Hodgins was out of the way before causing the explosion, even at the cost of hurting himself. If he had really believed in everything Gorgomon was, he wouldn't have waited. He wouldn't have cared about Hodgins. But he did. Hodgins was, _is_, his friend.

In the end, it turns out his fairy tale was written by the Brothers Grimm and not Disney.


	22. Pain

**Pain**

She had asked him why he didn't just tell them about Kennedy. He had said that he had needed to give her time to find him.

That was true. But it wasn't the whole truth.

The rest of the truth is this: you don't give in. You just don't.

Yes, they might want a particular piece of intel, but what they _really_ want is to break you, to cause you pain. Doesn't matter who "they" are; all they want is for you to scream.

He'd learned that lesson at his father's knee. Literally. While there he had also learned, quite quickly, that he wasn't going to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him break. Or anyone else for that matter. They tended to give up more easily, and more quickly, if they couldn't break you.

Ironically, that lesson has been the most helpful during his life so far. The other ones? Don't hit your kids, don't hit your wife, don't drink to give yourself the courage to do it? They haven't been quite as useful yet.

Yes, this one has been very helpful. He has never broken. He was trained early.


End file.
